


NOT A DREAM

by DustyP



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-21
Updated: 2013-05-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 14:00:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/812363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustyP/pseuds/DustyP
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to Dream or Reality</p>
            </blockquote>





	NOT A DREAM

The cabin of the truck was warm enough, keeping out the chill of the wet, grey day, and one of the two men sitting inside was in a contemplative mood.  
  
"Sometimes, when it's this wet, I begin to think the sun will never shine again," Blair said, sipping at the cup of luke-warm coffee in his hand.  
  
Jim Ellison turned his head to smile at his partner, "It always does," he said, then added. "What's with the sad face, Chief? You aren't usually so pessimistic."  
  
"Not pessimistic, just tired I guess." Blair turned to smile; he was tired, but a bit melancholy too, although he didn't know why.  
  
"Yeah, it's been a long week," agreed Ellison.  
  
There was silence for a few minutes, whilst Jim used his senses to sweep the area, finding it clear for the moment.  
  
The two detectives, were part of a stake-out in the old warehouse part of Cascade; they were waiting for the appearance of a gang of four men who had been  
systematically robbing jewellery stores over the past three months.  
  
The police had finally got a lead on where the gang were meeting after the robberies, and were determined to bring them in.  
  
Although the robbers had been armed, no-one, as yet, had been seriously hurt, although the last store owner had been threatened with a knife when he refused  
to open the safe. Luckily, he'd opened it before they decided to use it on him.  
  
"Did you ever think it was always sunny when you were younger?" Blair asked again.  
  
"I think looking back is making you miserable," Jim said, not really wanting to think back to his childhood days. "The weather may have been sunny, but when  
you're young you never think it can change very suddenly."  
  
"Like feelings... " murmured Blair.  
  
"What's wrong, Chief?" asked Jim seriously. "You having second thoughts about what you do now?"  
  
"What? Oh, no Jim. I thought long and hard about becoming a cop, but I like what we do... well mostly," he tried for a grin. "Stakeouts are NOT my favourite, though."  
  
"We'll, they aren't mine either, but they are necessary at times."  
  
"Yes, I know," Blair patted his partner's knee. "Don't mind me, my brain is cold and it's making we want warmer days."  
  
"When you were young?" asked Jim with a small smile. "Well, younger... anyway."  
  
Blair lifted a finger, but didn't reply to Jim's teasing.  
  
"Tell me one of your favourite memories," said Blair, settling back against the back of his seat, and taking a sip of his rapidly cooling coffee.  
  
Jim looked out of the window, letting his hearing and sight search for any movement; when there was no change, he turned and looked at his friend.  
  
"Fishing, on a sunny day... out in the forest with no phones, no sirens ... and no perps, messing up my city."  
  
Blair started to grin, then realised that Jim was perfectly serious.  
  
"Simple and relaxing, just as a memory should be," added Ellison.  
  
"A bit lonely, though," said Blair tentatively.  
  
Ellison shook his head. "Naw, not when I can hear you splashing around with that damn spear."  
  
Blair felt warmth spread through him; it wasn't often that Jim acknowledged their friendship in so many words.  
  
"It's not that loud, surely?"  
  
"Chief. Let me tell you ... fishing with a spear is noisy. Next time we go out I'm gonna have to teach you to fish properly, with a rod and line."  
  
"I can do that already," Blair protested, "it's just I like old traditional methods."  
  
"A rod and line are traditional," replied Jim.  
  
"Okay, okay... I'll use a nice quiet rod and line, next time," Blair grinned.  
  
There was silence in the cab again, then Jim asked.  
  
"Well, what's one of your favourite memories?"  
  
"Oh, I don't know." Blair thought for a moment. "I like fishing too, it was nice that place we camped last month."  
  
"Thought you would have some rather more exotic memories," Jim grinned, "y'know, all the out-of-the-way places you travelled through when you were a kid."  
  
"Yeah, I suppose," Blair paused. "I kinda used to like sitting in the sun talking with some tribal leaders, when I was on expeditions ..."  
  
Jim tensed and put out a hand. "Sorry Chief, our perps just showed up. Call it in."  
  
Blair dumped his coffee cup and picked up the mic ... looks like favourite memories would have to wait.  
  
Ten minutes later, Jim was swearing softly at the way things had gone south; they'd managed to close in on their quarry, until one had looked round at the wrong moment and caught a glimpse of Henri and Rafe closing in from the dockside of the warehouse and had fired at the two cops.  Then the four men had scattered, in three different directions.  
  
Blair had taken off after the nearest robbers, who had stuck together; Jim was a few seconds behind as he'd been on the opposite side of the street when the men had run. Out of the corner of his eye, he'd seen Henri tackle one of the men who'd headed towards the water, Rafe tearing after the other.  
  
He could hear Blair's running steps and his call of "Cascade Police - Stop!"  then the sound of shots had made him cringe as the sound was amplified by the  
brick walls of the alley, and he automatically turned his hearing down a notch, not wanting to be caught unawares by sudden loud noises.  
  
The use of the guns were a surprise, as they'd never been actually used in a robbery so far; to threaten yes, but never a shot fired. Trust them to change their MO when it was himself and Blair chasing them.  
  
"Careful, Chief," Ellison called. "They mean serious business here."  
  
Blair's breathless voice came back, "No kidding, Sherlock..." He had stopped suddenly, then Jim heard the whisper. "I think one of them is hiding behind those bins just ahead, Jim... careful..."  
  
Jim rounded a burned-out skeleton of a car, and ducked back as a volley of shots rang out, and he caught his breath as he heard Blair grunt with pain.  
  
"Blair! Chief... you okay?"  _please, please be okay'!_  
  
"Jim..." came the tired, breathless grunt... then the sound of a body sliding down a wet surface.  
  
Oh God! No! No!  
  
Straightening up, Jim looked over the top of the rusted scrap metal and saw his friend and partner slumped against the alley wall a few yards ahead, a hand  
clutching his side.  
  
Even as he tried to make a run for his partner, another flurry of shots rang out, pock-marking the bricks just in front of his face, driving him back into cover.  
  
Jim fired back, unable to see his quarry clearly behind the large bins, desperate to get to his guide.  Every time, he tried to run to his partner, he was forced back by the wild shooting.  
  
Taking a deep breath, Jim concentrated, focusing both his vision and hearing, on the other end of the alley. He heard a scramble of feet and the fast, panicked,  
thud of heartbeats and the sound of cursing.  
  
"What'd you shoot the cop for, you idiot? You've just got us both killed."

"I didn't mean to hit him, it was just a lucky shot..." came back the scared reply. "Anyway, I'm not going to jail."  
  
"You'll be lucky if you don't end up in hell, you asshole," Jim muttered viciously, then yelled. "This is Cascade Police, throw down your weapons, and come out with your hands up."  
  
"Oh yeah, and you're not just gonna shoot us if we're stupid enough to do that..." came from behind the bins.  
  
Jim really wanted to do just that, but he forced the idea away; he was a cop after all, even though the sentinel within him was aching for revenge on those who had hurt his guide.  
  
"Don't make this any worse; my partner is hurt. Drop the guns and come out, let me get him some medical help, and you'll be taken back to the Police Station.  
That's all."  
  
There was muttering from the bins, and Jim glanced desperately at the slumped figure of his friend, he could already smell blood. All he wanted to do was go to Blair, get him some help, but he couldn't take the risk of one of those idiots shooting him before he could do that.  
  
"Come on, don't be stupid. You haven't killed anyone yet, so don't make it any worse."  
  
More arguments from the two robbers, then Jim heard movement and he risked standing up to see better what was happening.  
  
The two men were moving backwards, away from the fight, then one turned, raising the gun and Jim, without hesitation, fired. The man screamed and clutched his shoulder; his companion kept running.  
  
Unfortunately for him, Henri Brown was just rounding the other end of the alley and the perp ran straight into his arms. Henri knocked him down with one blow, and bent to handcuff him.  "Got this one, Jim. How about the other?"  
  
"Wounded, can you see to him Henri, Blair's hurt."  
  
"Oh God..." Henri left his prisoner face-down on the ground and ran towards where Jim was standing, holding his weapon pointed at the downed robber.  
  
Not waiting for Henri to stop, Jim ran back to where Blair was half-slumped against the wall, yelling "Get an ambulance."  
  
Moving him gently away from the wet brickwork, Jim made a quick examination. The bullet wound was low down on the right side of Blair's chest and bleeding  
freely; the smell of it was making Jim feel sick, there was a lot of it, seeping wetly through Blair's coat and pooling on the ground.  
  
"Chief! Blair, you still with me?"  
  
Cradling his friend close to his chest, trying to keep him warm, Jim murmured words of encouragement, trying to keep the quaver out of his voice. He hadn't felt this scared in a long, long time.  
  
"Blair! Blair! Come on, Chief, hang on. Everything is gonna be fine... just you hang on, you hear me Chief?"  
  
He felt, more than heard Blair as he tried to answer him, but the words were lost even to his sentinel ears.  
  
The body in his arms stirred, one hand half lifting towards him, the gun it still held dropping to the ground, as though too heavy.  
  
"NO... NO..." He wasn't even aware he'd yelled aloud his pain.  
  
For one dreadful moment, he'd thought he'd lost his partner, and frantically sought for a pulse, both with his hands, and his hearing - and thanked every deity he'd ever heard of as the faint beat told him that Blair was still hanging on.  
  
Hearing the hoarse breathing and feeling the wet warmth of his friend's precious blood sinking into his own clothes, Jim prayed as he'd never done before.  
  
Cradling Blair closer, lifting him higher to try and ease his breathing, Jim heard the faint words "Thank you.." whispered through blood-stained lips, and wondered why Blair felt the need to thank him.  
  
He certainly didn't need thanks for doing what he could to ease his friend's pain, he only hoped it would be enough until Blair could get the medical attention he so desperately needed.  
  
"Where the hell is that ambulance?" he yelled at Brown.  
  
"On it's way, Jim," said Brown, coming to stand beside his friends, having handcuffed the two unconscious prisoners to each other. "How's he doing?"  
  
Jim shook his head, "Not so good, he's bleeding pretty badly." One of his hands was clamped tightly over the wound in his friend's side, trying to slow the flow of blood.  
  
"What happened?" asked Brown, leaning closer to the pair huddled on the ground.  
  
Jim shook his head. "I don't know. We were chasing that pair, and they suddenly turned and fired on us. Hit Blair with one of the first shots. He was slightly in front of me and fell, I couldn't get to him straight away."  
  
The agony of that statement was evident in his voice, and Brown pressed a comforting hand on Ellison's broad shoulder. He, and every other member of Major Crime knew that feeling, of wanting to protect his partner.  
  
"They aren't going anywhere now. Rafe got the fourth man trying to jump into a rowing boat," H gave a brief smile. "They don't seem the brightest pebbles on the beach, do they?"  
  
Jim didn't answer, too busy listening to Blair's laboured breathing... where was that ambulance...?  
  
* * * * *  
Thirty-five minutes later, Jim was in the waiting room at Cascade General, after what seemed to be the fastest ride in a large vehicle he'd ever experienced.   
Two patrol cars had cleared the way for the ambulance, and his friend and partner was now in the capable hands of a trauma team.  
  
It was going to be a long night.  
  
Blair had lost a lot of blood and had to be stabilised before they could even attempt to remove the bullet, which had nicked his lung.  
  
Two hours later, when the waiting room had slowly filled with other members of Major Crime, the surgeon, still in his blood-streaked scrubs came to the door, and looked round.  
  
As Jim stood up, unconsciously bracing himself, Simon beside him, the man nodded slowly, a tired smile curving his mouth.  
  
A sigh of relief swept through the room, and Jim slumped into his chair.  
  
 _ **Thank you God**_  
  
There would be time now, to go fishing, to hear about Blair's favourite memories - although Jim now had one more to add to his own, precious few.  
  
Dusty Tyree (c)  
12th August 2010  
  



End file.
